


A Hunter's Journal

by PenUltimate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Epistolary, M/M, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5993434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenUltimate/pseuds/PenUltimate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester tries to navigate his way through his screwed up love map.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hunter's Journal

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to yoursecretbattle for the beta! You were sososo generous and helpful. You're amazing. <3 .
> 
> * * *
> 
> _"I felt like an animal, and animals don't know sin, do they?"_  
>  ―Jess C. Scott, Wicked Lovely __

 

* * *

 

19th March 1997, Seattle, Washington

_I don’t know why I agreed to start my own hunter’s journal. I mean, it’s not as if I actually want to become one, so I don’t know why I’m writing about it. I don’t go on many hunts anyway – I’m too young, apparently (thank god) – so there’s not much for me to write down. Even Dean refuses to write in the leather-bound book Dad tossed at him. Instead, he gave it to me._

“You’ll do all the writing crap, right Sammy?” Dean smirked at me, crossing his arms.

“Gee, thanks Dean. Just what I’ve always wanted,” I replied, rolling my eyes, voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Hey, don’t whine to me. At least this way you’ll have somewhere to talk about all your ‘girly feelings’,” he laughed, ducking when I threw the book straight at his head.

“Jerk,” I muttered.

“Bitch!” he called on his way to the sofa, without turning back to look at me.

 

* * *

 

1st April 1997, Seattle, Washington

_God, I hate and love this day, in equal measure._

_Even though Dean is legally an adult, he still acts like a child._

_._

_He put actual sand in my sandwich, I’m so angry._

_I’m going to put confetti hearts and glitter in all of his school stuff._

_And I’m going to change the cassette tape in his car to something that’ll make him blush and turn it up full blast._

_Hope I’m there to see it._

 

* * *

 

6th April 1997, Ellensburg, Washington

_I’m a freak._

_I know I am. There’s something wrong with me. I can feel it._

_Sometimes when I get angry, it feels like there’s acid in my veins; like my blood is literally boiling. Like I’m on fire._

_I feel… dirty. And not in a good way. Just… wrong. Like I’m messed up inside. Impure._

_Tainted._

 

* * *

 

18th April 1997, Cheney, Washington

_Another day, another town. I’m really sick of moving around._

 

* * *

 

25th April 1997, Coeur d’Alene, Idaho

_I hate Dad, I HATE HIM HATE HIM HATE HIM._

 

* * *

 

2nd May 1997, Lewiston, Idaho

_It’s my birthday!_

_Dad forgot, as per usual, so he didn’t turn up. But I gave up giving a crap about that a long time ago. I think Dean still feels bad every time it happens, though. I wish I could make him realise that he makes up for every way Dad fails as a parent._

_Anyway, we all suck at giving presents (Dad got Dean a knife for his eighteenth. We were both mainly just amazed that he got him anything at all. I think it’s the first time I’ve almost seen him cry in forever), but Dean got me a bunch of all my favourite types of candy. I’ve never had so much sugar in my life – including on Hallowe’en._

_He took me to the amusement arcade and we spent like three hours there, and then we went to the cinema and he let me pick the film – which he never does – and we watched the new Austin Powers and Dean laughed so hard he choked on his popcorn and my tongue is still blue from my slushy._

_So, yeah. It was a pretty good day._

 

* * *

 

11th May 1997, White Bird, Idaho

_Lately I’ve been feeling… really fucking weird._

_Like, I’ve been getting really angry every time Dean hits on girls? I used to just think it was really annoying, but now it kind of makes me feel sick._

_When Dean ruffles my hair, or even when he gives me a noogie, my heart starts beating really fast. Actually, it seems to do that every time he touches me now._

_His smiles make my palms get all sweaty, and my stomach sort of twists, until it feels like a twizzler._

_I keep getting distracted by his arms and the way his muscles move under his skin._

_And when he tickles me or tackles me (or both)… Well, uh._

_It’s weird._

_I’m so confused._

_  
_

* * *

 

17th May 1997, Cambridge, Idaho

_Oh, my fucking god._

 

* * *

 

19th May 1997, Vale, Oregon

_I really am a freak._

_A total and utter freak._

 

* * *

 

23rd May 1997, Vale, Oregon

_I didn’t used to feel like this, but now I can’t stop._

_I’ve tried, god have I tried, but I don’t know how to make it go away. It’s like the elephant in the room – ever since I thought about it, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it._

_I know it’s wrong. It’s disgusting._

_I’m disgusting._

_But it’s really hard to stop having a crush on someone I see all day every day. School is my only escape. And even then, Dean always comes over to me during lunch and between classes. He’s the one who walks me there and walks me home._

_It’s hard to stop feeling this way when he’s the one who makes me my breakfast, the one who’s there when I go to bed at night and the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. He’s always there. Unlike dad._

_I cried the other day (embarrassing, so embarrassing) and he didn’t tell me to grow up, like dad would’ve. He just hugged me until I stopped and then he got some tissues and wiped all the saltwater sadness away. Didn’t even tease me or anything._

_And that just made me feel even worse, because I couldn’t stop thinking about how he smelled so nice, and he was so warm, and strong, and his eyes are so ridiculously green, and fuck I don’t know what to do._

_I don’t know what to do._

_I guess I’d better hide this fucking journal in case Dean or Dad find it._

_To be honest, I’m not sure which would be worse._

_._

_His skin smells like sunlight and engine oil._

 

* * *

 

3rd June 1997, Vale, Oregon

_Great. Summer._

_Now my only excuse to get away from him is gone._

_And Dad will want to cram in as many cases in as many different places as he can. Which will mean that we’ll all be trapped in the same car together. All the time._

_Great._

 

* * *

 

7th June 1997, Drewsey, Oregon

_I know Dad loves us._

_But he’s not very good at it._

 

* * *

 

8th June 1997, Drewsey, Oregon

_Research. That’s what this journal’s supposed to be about anyway. It’s not supposed to be some kind of messed up diary, it’s supposed to be about Hunting._

_So, I should… focus on research._

_Yeah._

 

* * *

 

10th June 1997, Crowley, Oregon

_God, I want him like the Impala wants the road._

_Smooth, effortless agony. Always dragging me away from “normal.”  (And, boy, what a ride)._

_Guess I don’t really have any right to use “god” anymore. He probably wouldn’t want to be put in that sentence._

 

* * *

 

13th June 1997, Nampa, Idaho

_Okay, so maybe the research I’ve been doing lately hasn’t exactly been supernaturally inclined, but it’s still important._

_It’s just that… I know I’m a freak._

_I just want to know **why**._

_So, I’ve been doing some reading. Mostly just psychology books so people won’t look at me weird for reading them. I don’t want to get caught reading something more specific._

_And, okay, so sibling incest is five times as common as other forms. Apparently. But it seems to be between older brothers and younger sisters usually, and is mostly abusive. The dads are usually absent a lot in those cases._

_But that clearly doesn’t really apply to me, because I’m not a girl and there’s no abuse, so whatever._

_I'm still so confused. I need a break. I’ll come back to this later._

 

* * *

 

 

15th June 1997, Bliss, Idaho

_I was reading about this thing called GSA (Genetic Sexual Attraction), where people are attracted to their relatives who they've never met, or haven't seen since they were little kids._

_But it can't be that, because I’ve known Dean my whole life. And there's supposed to be something called the “Westermarck Effect” which, like, desensitises you to the attractiveness of people you grew up with?_

_I don't understand why that didn’t that kick in, BECAUSE I’VE KNOWN DEAN MY WHOLE LIFE. Why aren’t I desensitised?!_

_So, basically, I’m back at: I don’t know what’s wrong with me._

_The only thing that I can find as an explanation is that maybe my love map got screwed up, got skewed towards Dean, or tangled up around him. But I don’t know how or why that happened._

_I just know that I have to find a way to fix it._

_._

_I want his hands on me all the time. I want them to burn imprints in my skin, so that I can look at them and know that Dean was there._

_I want him to always be there._

* * *

 

17th June 1997, Jackpot, Nevada

_My stuff keeps moving around, like someone’s been looking through my things._

_I think Dean has been trying to find this journal. Or as he calls it my “little diary”._

_If only he knew._

_Actually: if only it weren’t true._

 

* * *

 

20th July 1997, Wells, Nevada

_Oh, what fun it is to hunt a werewolf._

_Not._

_._

_Dean got hurt._

_I felt like I couldn’t breathe until he stopped bleeding._

 

* * *

 

24th June 1997, Route 80, Utah

_I’ve noticed that Dean has been treating me differently lately, and he looks really guilty all the time, but I don’t understand why._

 

* * *

 

30th June 1997, Salt Lake City, Utah

_God, I hate the way Dad’s last words to Dean every time he leaves are “look after Sammy.”_

_Firstly, I can look after myself._

_Secondly, it’s not like Dad needs to keep reiterating the point. Dean already seems to think that that’s his job. To protect me. Even from himself._

_And myself._

_Oh, sure he drinks beer, but never in front of me and he makes sure I don’t touch the stuff._

_He skips school all the time, but he still watches me do my homework._

_He even tells me to brush my damn teeth before bed!_

_And I know he’s my big brother and all, and he’s always taken care of me, but I’m not a child anymore._

 

* * *

 

5th July 1997, Green River, Utah

_Sometimes I look at him and think “ughDeanbrothersoannoying”, but then he’ll tilt his head to the side and the sunlight will change his face, like it’s caressing the angles of it, kissing his cheekbones and leaving freckles behind. Keeping him warm._

_I want to do that._

 

* * *

 

7th July 1997, Grand Junction, Colorado

_Dean has slept with no less than three girls a week for the last fortnight._

_It’s driving me crazy._

_I can smell them on him, can see the places where they dragged the blood up to the surface of his skin with their tongues and their teeth._

_I hate it._

_It makes my blood burn._

 

* * *

 

9th July 1997, Montrose, Colorado

_My fingers – my fists – have been itching to break something for what feels like forever._

_A chair, a window, someone’s face. Anything. Everything._

_But I’m not that kind of person._

_I don’t want to be that kind of person._

_The itch won’t go away._

* * *

 

11th July 1997, Telluride, Colorado

_Sometimes, it’s as if I’m tied to train tracks. Struggling against the ropes and so god damn scared. Angry, too. Angry that I’m stuck there, trapped. Like I know a train is thundering my way, can feel the shivering of the metal I’m tied to. I know there’s going to be a crash and there won’t be anything of me left behind._

_But there’s nothing I can do to stop it._

_Nothing I can do to get away._

 

* * *

 

13th July 1997, Cortez, Colorado

_I had another fight with dad about college._

 

* * *

 

15th July 1997, Route 40, Arizona

_Why, oh, why does Dean walk around topless for no apparent reason? I mean, I get that it’s hot, but why can’t he just wear a t-shirt?!?!_

_._

_I want to know what every single inch of him feels like. Against my skin, under my tongue, against my lips._

_Every. Inch._

 

* * *

 

18th July 1997, Flagstaff, Arizona

_I can’t handle this anymore._

_It’s not that I want a normal life for the sake of normality – I mean, clearly, I’m fairly abnormal anyway._

_It’s just that… I want to stay in one place for more than three months (and even being in one place for just a month is a miracle). I hate moving around all the time, I hate feeling like we’re on the run from anything and everything. I don’t want my life to be one long endless road-trip._

_I hate that we can fit everything we own into the trunk of a car._

_I hate that every time we switch schools I have to start all over again, figure out where they are in the syllabus for each subject, get shown around. It’s different every time, and yet so repetitive I want to scream._

_I just want friends. And a home. And a pet. I don’t want to go hungry because Dad is a crappy parent, and I don’t want to always be hiding from the monsters that aren’t under my bed – but that’re everywhere else._

_I’m not even scared of them anymore, and that’s not normal. That’s not okay._

_Because I should be._

 

* * *

 

29th July 1997, Albuquerque, New Mexico

_The worst thing is that Dad is angrier at Dean than at me._

_And Dean’s just so sad, and hurt._

_But it wasn’t him I was running away from!_

_He’s… the only good thing about this stupid fucking life._

_He’s the one who looks after me, and makes me laugh, and entertains me through hours of driving to nowhere._

_Dean is the only thing I don’t want to leave behind. And if I thought he’d come with me, I’d run away **with** him. But he likes this life, and he doesn’t want to leave dad alone – even though dad always leaves us alone. _

_He doesn’t understand why I want to go to college, ’cause he’s always hated school. He thinks that I wanted to get away from him too._

_But I didn’t._

_I just, I hate living like this. ~~I’m not~~ It doesn’t make me happy. I feel miserable and angry all the time. It’s like this seething under my skin that just makes me want to lash out at people, want to cut them where it hurts the most. _

_I just wanted to get away from everything._

_Except Dean. Never Dean._

 

* * *

 

2nd August 1997, Amarillo, Texas

_Dean’s still not really talking to me._

_It’s awful._

_It hurts._

_It hurts worse than that time I was learning how to use a shotgun and I braced it against my arm instead of my chest. When I pulled the trigger I was in agony, but also sort of numb, and I couldn’t hear a god damn thing and I felt like crying._

_I feel like crying._

 

* * *

 

12th August 1997, Tulsa, Oklahoma

_Dean, Dean, go away,_

_Cum again another day._

_._

_Actually, I could do with some rain._

_Maybe it’d quench my thirst. I feel as thirsty as the dirt in this drought._

_And drier than the dirt in my thoughts._

 

* * *

 

14th August 1997, Route 44, Missouri

_Jesus, three states in two weeks. It’s like they’re trying to get me as far away from Arizona as they can, as fast as they can._

 

* * *

 

22nd August 1997, St. Louis, Missouri

_Okay, so Dean laughed at something I said today._

_Progress._

 

* * *

 

3rd September 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_School, oh how I’ve missed you._

_At long last, an end to the incessant driving._

_Huh, incessant._

_Sounds a lot like the word that makes me turn the other way every time I hear it._

 

* * *

 

8th September 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_We had to write poems in English class today. Observe my mastery of my demons:_

_**The Tragedy of Temptation** _

_By Sam Winchester_

_The sheen of your sweat is a siren’s call_

_Shiny like the paint job of a newly-waxed car_

_I want to drown myself in your body_

_Trying to swim to the vibrant islands of your eyes_

_Lush with laughter and life_

_I long to polish your skin with my hands_

_Until your cheeks shine_

_Wet with needy tear-tracks_

_I would let you lure me to sleep_

_If you vowed to drag me into your depths_

_I would starve myself for the chance_

_To feast my gaze upon_ _your flesh_

_This is not a road I should travel on_

_The end of this song is death_

_._

_Okay, so maybe it needs a little work. I’ve probably been reading too much Greek mythology lately. Stupid Hunting research._

_My teacher said it was a little morbid. But teenagers are supposed to be dramatic, and I think I have as good an excuse to be as any._

 

* * *

 

13th September 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_I don’t even know why I keep writing these things down. I just feel like I need to get the words out of my head in some way before they come spilling out of my mouth, and out onto the page seems like a decent way to exorcise them._

 

* * *

 

15th September 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_I wonder if I could take a day off of school for sick thoughts._

 

* * *

 

19th September 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_Goddamn, we’ve been in this town for a long time._

_It’s pretty great, actually._

_But I know it just means that it’s going to hurt more when we leave._

 

* * *

 

21st September 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_Star light, star bright,_

_I hear his breath hitch every night,_

_I wish I wouldn’t, I wish I might,_

_Hear his skin on his skin tonight._

 

* * *

 

27th September 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_He haunts my waking thoughts and he hunts me in my sleep; in every day-drenched hour, and through every fevered dream._

 

* * *

 

4th November 1997, Mt Vernon, Missouri

_I try to count his freckles, but I keep losing track._

_I love it every time I have to start all over again._

_._

_I wonder if there’s some kind of support group for this._

* * *

 

10th November 1997, Salem, Illinois

_Fucking witches._

 

* * *

 

16th November 1997, Decatur, Illinois

_Fuck, Dean just walked out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel on._

_I think he caught me staring._

_I didn’t mean to! It was just, there was water, and there were abs, and he has all these freckles, and I fucking love his freckles and just._

_Fuck fuck fuck._

 

* * *

 

20th November 1997, Normal, Illinois

_Oh, the irony._

 

* * *

 

25th November 1997, Fairfax, Indiana

_Dirk McGregor is an asshole, but Amanda Heckerling is actually pretty nice._

_But guess who I hate more?_

_Myself, honestly._

 

* * *

 

31st November 1997, Route 74, Indiana

_So, I’ve decided to start looking for a spell or something that’ll… fix this somehow._

_Maybe some kind of… I don’t know. I’m hoping I’ll come across something._

_Anything._

 

* * *

 

6th December 1997, Cincinnati, Ohio

_Sometimes I want his fingers in mine, other times I want his fingers in me._

 

* * *

 

11th December 1997, Cincinnati, Ohio

_I’ve been looking through lots of love-spell books, but most witches with unrequited love problems or a broken heart seem to want to either curse people or make them fall in love with them._

_I don’t want either of those things._

_I just want to stop feeling like this._

_Why can’t there be any nice, moral witches who made spells about how to put an end to incestuous thoughts and feelings and left them lying around for the rest of us to find and benefit from?_

_Dean’s even been driving me to the library lately, and even coming in with me (which is something I never thought I’d see. I know he likes reading, but he hates people actually seeing him reading, like it lowers his cool factor or street cred or something). I’ve seen him reading some spell books too, which is really weird, because he usually only reads up on that stuff if it’s relevant to a case, which… it’s not, at the moment._

_So, I don’t know what he’s up to, but I’m suspicious._

_I also saw him reading a book on the “Psychology of Love”. Probably just wants to use it to hit on girls._

* * *

 

14th December 1997, Columbus, Ohio

_New school, same old problems._

 

* * *

 

16th December 1997, Columbus, Ohio

_When he smiles that smile, that special Sam-smile, I want to kiss it with my fist, because I can’t crush it with my lips._

 

* * *

 

18th December 1997, Columbus, Ohio

_His scars are like a roadmap across his body, telling the story of all the danger he’s ever been in._

_I want to trace the routes with my tongue._

_Cross every major highway with my fingertips._

_Mark every city stop-off with my teeth._

_  
_

* * *

 

21st December 1997, Columbus, Ohio

_So, Dean made some kind of weird smoothie for me today. I know I complain about how unhealthily we eat, but I never thought he’d actually **do** something about it. Especially since he despises all things green and/or leafy. If a rabbit could eat it, Dean usually doesn’t want it near him. _

_He looked so nervous, like he was worried I wasn’t going to drink it. Which meant that obviously I had to, even if it did look pretty disgusting._

_And man did it taste disgusting._

_It’s a good thing that I’ve gotten better at lying. At least that’s one good result of this whole ordeal._

_Wow, so now there’s another reason that I hope Dean never finds this thing. Because I think I managed to pretend like I liked it. Or at least like I didn’t hate it._

_Which I did._

_But anyway, I drank it, and now I don’t feel so good. I have no idea what the hell he put into that thing, but it was vile. I know he’d never actually do anything to hurt me, he only ever does what’s best for me really, so it must not have been anything poisonous at least._

_He kept muttering and not looking at me though, which was really weird._

_I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately._

_Actually, I really don’t feel so good. My chest is starting to feel sore._

_Jesus, it feels like something in there is breaking and reshaping or something, and I have a headache, which keeps getting worse, even though I took some Advil. It doesn’t seem to be helping._

_Maybe I should tell Dean. I mean, I can’t go to the hospital or anything, but maybe, maybe there are some other some other meds_

_Meds that I can_

_I can_

_I_

* * *

 

27th January 1998, Jackson, Tennessee

_Wow, I haven’t written in this thing in months._

_Whatever, it’s not like there was much written in it anyway._

_Although there are some pages ripped out that I can’t remember ripping out? Which is weird. I feel like Dean probably did it, just to be a dick and let me know that he finally found my stupid journal. He hasn’t mentioned it though, which is strange, ‘cause usually he’d tease me or gloat or something._

_He’s probably saving them for blackmail material._

_I can’t remember what I wrote on them._

_But I can’t remember anything important or, like, secretive happening that I’d want to write down anyway? So, it doesn’t really matter._

_He knows pretty much everything about me anyway._

 

* * *

 

3rd February 1998, Nashville, Tennessee

_Sometimes I get the urge to write in this thing, but then I can’t remember what I was going to write anymore._

 

* * *

 

28th February 1998, Greenville, Georgia

_I keep feeling like I’m forgetting something._

_Like, sometimes when I think back on stuff that’s happened, it feels a little hazy or something? Like a jigsaw puzzle that’s missing some pieces._

_I tried talking to Dean about it, but he just said that if it was important I’d remember it._

_I guess it doesn’t matter._

 

* * *

 

5th March 1998, Atlanta, Georgia

_Dean’s been extra annoying, lately. He keeps watching me, and, like, going silent at random moments like he’s waiting for me to do something or say something._

_I don’t understand it._

 

* * *

 

16th March 1998, Route 20, Alabama

_Ugh, Dean started another prank war._

_He cut my hair while I was asleep! He’d kill me if I did that to him!_

_Whatever. It’s on._

 

* * *

 

20th March 1998, Meridian, Mississippi

_I found some books in Dean’s duffel bag, while I was looking for something to prank him with (I’m still not sure what my next move is. Throwing some of his stuff on the motel roof?)._

_There was this spell book in there. It was full of memory spells and anti-love spells and just generally stuff that would mess with people’s minds and their feelings. I didn’t even know those kinds of spells existed, and I have no clue why Dean has it._

_Maybe he used it on a girl to get her to stop… hitting on him? Stalking him? I have no idea._

_Whoever he used it on, that person must be in love with someone who’s the total opposite of him now, judging by the spell that was on the page he bookmarked._

_Which is pretty bad actually, because Dean is secretly a really good person, so that poor girl is probably out there falling for some totally evil douchebag right now._

_There was also a psychology book, which is just… strange. I didn’t think Dean was interested in psychology._

_I guess I should probably to stop digging around my brother’s business. (Not that he’s ever done me the same courtesy)._

 

* * *

 

12th April 1998, Jackson, Mississippi

_I’ve started looking for scholarships. We’re so poor that it shouldn’t be a problem. I just feel like… There’s nothing really keeping me here. Well, “here” as in with my family._

_Don’t get me wrong, I mean I care about them, but it’s… not enough anymore._

 

* * *

 

28th April 1998, Demopolis, Alabama

_So, I met this girl._

_  
_

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _“There was a war going on in our house. A silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that spilled was always called pride.” ___  
> ―V.C. Andrews, The Flowers in the Attic


End file.
